“I’m all right, thanks,” Jo said, getting up stiffly.
“You’ll be better when you’ve had a cup of tea. I’ll give the pony a feed while you’re resting, and you can ride back comfortable when he’s had it. Come along, now.” He swung a child aloft on each shoulder. “My missus’ll have something to say to you when she hears about this!—the very pluckiest——”
His voice stopped uncertainly, and Jo, suddenly aware that she was very tired, followed him up the garden path.
The wife proved to be not excitable—which was, perhaps, as well for Jo. Her motherly eyes took in the girl’s strained face at a glance—she had quietly established her on an old sofa in the kitchen before her husband had finished the story. Even then, she said little. She caught the babies to her for a moment: then, putting them aside, brought water and bathed Jo’s face and hands, and presently had a cup of tea beside her—the universal medicine of the Bush. As she put it down she stooped suddenly, and kissed the girl’s hand.
“There ain’t no sayin’ ‘thank you’ for what you’ve done for us,” she said.
When her husband came back, within an hour, he brought with him a man who greeted Jo as an old friend. She had drunk five cups of tea, and was feeling rested, and both babies were sitting on top of her. Jo adored babies.
The Barrabri doctor patted her on the head.
“Tim Conlan’s been telling me all about you, young lady,” said he. “Nice hot day you’ve chosen to chase a bad-tempered bull twelve miles! How are you, Mrs. Conlan? and the youngsters? You all look very fit. Look here, twin—which are you? I never know!”
“I’ve only your word for it,” said the doctor, laughing. “Anyhow, Conlan and I have agreed that you’re not going to ride back in this heat. He was going to drive you; but he ran across me, and I’m going past your place in the car. You come home with me, and Conlan will bring your pony over in a day or two. Will that do?”
“Oh, that’s giving Mr. Conlan an awful lot of trouble,” Jo protested. Whereat Tim Conlan uttered a kind of smothered snort, and Dr. Lawrence laughed.
“I think Mr. Conlan will be annoyed if you talk to him about trouble,” he said. “Well, that’s settled. Feel well enough to start now?”
“Oh, yes,” said Jo, giving in. “I would like to get back before Mother and Father get home—Mother’s coming back from Town to-day. And poor old Jean will be awfully anxious. She wanted to come after the bull too, but there was no one to look after Sarah—she’s sick.”
